


Company, As In

by RootsOfOurRemiges



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Character Study, Gay Male Character, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:02:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28836762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RootsOfOurRemiges/pseuds/RootsOfOurRemiges
Summary: Heaven's control first slipped when his body awakened to sensation and desire.
Relationships: Aziraphale (Good Omens)/Other(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	Company, As In

Aziraphale preferred the company of men. 

Always had done. 

Just as easily as he’d found his palate, delighting his senses with the figs, dates, and pomegranates drawn forth from dark Sumerian silt — just as easily as he’d fallen in love with the written word, having listened in awe to the first epic poems and poured over every verse as it was immortalized in clay — just as easily as these and immeasurable other human pleasures, he’d found himself uniquely enamored with the male form.

For all the poetry written and sung so passionately about the complementary perfection of the two sexes, Aziraphale made a polite audience and attentive scholar — but found his own passions elsewhere. In symmetry. In one sex as its _own_ best complement. 

He loved the texture of coarse hair playing across his skin. He loved the strong backs of farmers and the dextrous fingers of scribes. He loved the low, even rumble of a voice whispering beautifully filthy things in his ear as he was enveloped by protective arms and sturdy hands. He loved how he could be _filled_ so completely, taken from the inside as only another male body could ever give him.

Heaven had granted him this body of his, _his_ but technically on loan with the silently understood clause of return, once the planet's purpose was seen through. But that would be an immeasurable stretch of time away. For now, where he stood in his flesh and blood vessel here on Earth, it was at the whims of its own anatomical makeup just as much as Aziraphale’s own will, and he'd find it guiding him to what he sought just as often if not moreso than the reverse. Heaven may have had their say in the superficialities of his form, but they could never have accounted for the fantasies that coursed through its mind, for the flavors that burst most vividly across its tongue, for the particular manner of touch that sent shivers along its skin and guided the eager responsive rush of its blood. 

Only that wasn’t quite the right phrasing anymore, was it? It was _his_ mind, _his_ tongue, _his_ skin and blood. They were him as he was them, for all Heaven's insistence on their distinction. 

Humanity had no such barriers between the body and the self. Aziraphale knew now such deep, thrumming pleasures as no angel before had entertained — or perhaps ever would again, if he was truly alone in his aberration. Felt them wrung from the very _depths_ of him, so deep they must have been entwined with his soul itself. 

Food and drink. Poetry and prose. Men, and with them, _sex_. 

Each pleasure an anchoring reassurance of the solid earth upon which Aziraphale stood, a sturdy and safe place to tread while Heaven’s eggshell floors grew ever more fragile beneath his feet.


End file.
